Pirates of the Caribbean: Blood Bonds
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Bootstrap Bill's return from the 'dead' leads to a new adventure for Will and the discovery that his family is far larger than he believed. Meanwhile, Jack tries to learn more about a new ship on his waters, the 'Camille.'
1. Prologue: Daddy's Little Girl

Prologue: Daddy's Little Girl  
  
Disclaimer: The concept of 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and its characters do not belong to me. Alicia Webster, her daughter Tamsyn, and the crew of the 'Camille' do belong to me, aside from Bootstrap Bill Turner.  
  
Author's Note: Yes, this is another story in which Bootstrap Bill escapes from his watery prison before his son lifts the curse. My reasoning is thus: even though Bill sent his medallion to Will in England, he was still claimed by the curse. After all, the mutinous crew of the Black Pearl remained cursed, even after the gold was spent. And while it might have taken Bill sometime to get himself free, I also think it likely that he would pull himself up by his bootstraps (no pun intended). Whether he intended to or not, with that act of defiance, he placed Will's life in danger. He would want to protect his son, and he couldn't do that at the bottom of the ocean. It was sheer timing that Jack reached Port Royal before Bill did. . .at least for my purposes.  
  
"Must you go, Papa?"  
  
William Turner was almost to the door, when the wistful little voice stopped him. The man turned and faced the owner of the voice, swallowing hard as he did. The English sailor reached his hands out to his five year old daughter, saying hoarsely, "Come to Papa, Camille." The little girl ran to him, needing no further encouragement. He lifted her into his arms until he could look into her hazel eyes.  
  
She inherited her eyes from her mother, this precious child of his. Her mother, whom he treated so shamefully. But there was still such trust in Camille's eyes, it made William's throat ache to see. He sat down in a chair, wishing more than anything he could take Camille from this place. But he was newly-married, and he was not yet enough of a man to tell his beloved Rosamunde that he had a child by a whore.  
  
Rosamunde didn't deserve that, and nor did Camille. Rosamunde was only eighteen years old, too young to deal with her new husband's illegitimate daughter. And Camille was just a baby herself. It was all too likely that her step-mother would punish her for her father's sins. Her father's sins, not her step-mother's, and not her own. William looked at his daughter, his brown eyes drinking in each line, each curve of her small, serious face. He said hoarsely, "I must go, my Cammy. One day, I will come back for you. I promise you. I will come back for you. Until that day comes, I ask you to do something very important for me." Cammy bobbed her head and William continued, "Look after your mother. She loves you very much." Just as I do.  
  
"I will, Papa. Uncle Jack? Will you take care of Papa for me?" Camille asked the dark-haired boy standing behind William. Jack Sparrow stepped into the light, a gentle smile seemingly at odds with his fearsome appearance. Or what was supposed to be fearsome. William always thought he looked rather silly, and didn't hesitate to tell his friend so. Jack responded that was the idea. It led people to underestimate him.  
  
"Of course I will, darling. Your papa is my friend. And you are my angel. How do you know you are my angel?" Jack asked, his dark eyes dancing with laughter as he scooped the girl from William's arms and twirled her around. Camille giggled. William rose to his feet, watching his daughter and best friend. The shuffling sound told him that the three of them were no longer alone.  
  
"Cause I don't gotta call you, 'Capn Jack,' that's why!" Camille answered gleefully. William dipped his head to hide his smile, but it was then that Camille's mother stepped up. And suddenly, it wasn't so difficult to hide his smile. Looking at Julia, smiling wasn't even an option. She bore little resemblance to the beautiful, sassy girl he met six years earlier. He fell in love with her, and asked her to marry him when she told him about Camille, but. . .  
  
Julia said, her voice hoarse, "I sometimes think 'bout the day ye asked me to marry ye." William looked at her as Julia continued, "I knew I weren't good enough for ye. I thought there would be a day when ye would tire of me, when I would embarrass ye." William started to protest. He was merely a sailor, a sailor and a pirate! Julia silenced him by saying softly, "I thought ye deserved better than a whore who didn't know her own da's name."  
  
William again started to speak, to tell his former lover that she was wrong about him, wrong about her, but Julia wasn't finished. She went on, "I were right, but for the wrong reasons. Ye ain't like me da. Me ma was a whore, just like me. But Cammy, she'll grow up different. She got a father who loves her. And she'll be a lady when she grows up, no matter what it takes."  
  
"She shan't allow that," William answered, understanding what his former lover meant. Julia would ensure her daughter's future, even if she had to sacrifice her place in her daughter's life. But he also knew that Camille wouldn't allow that. She was just as stubborn as both of her parents. If he closed his eyes, he could see Camille in twenty years. Beautiful, strong, and determined. For the first time, he wondered if he was right about not telling Rosamunde. Camille would make a wonderful big sister, and she was a very protective daughter. She would not allow her mother to disappear from her life.  
  
"I ain't givin' her a choice. Bill, ye and Rosamunde are gonna have chillern. Don't be comin' back for Camille 'til I give the word. If ye love our girl, don't!" Julia whispered almost desperately. Feeling betrayed, the young pirate stared at the mother of his child. She was asking him to walk away from his child? From his little princess, from his angel? Julia continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "Yer a pirate, Bill, somethin' that is gonna hurt Cammy, and ye knew that!"  
  
Now he saw her plan, in its entirety. She would rob their daughter of both of her parents. And in a queer sort of way, it made sense. Camille was the daughter of a pirate and a whore. It would be hard for her to make a good marriage, the kind Julia had in mind. William looked at his daughter, saying softly, "I will make no promises. They do not know the truth in England. Rosamunde only knows that I am a sailor. There is no need for Camille's suitors to know!"  
  
"No promises, Bill, then I ain't gonna tell ye when I die. And I am gonna die, we both knew that. If ye don't promise, ye ain't never gonna see Cammy again! Ye hear me? Never!" Julia threatened. William stared at her, his mouth dry with shock. She didn't mean it. She couldn't! Leave their daughter an orphan to make her a lady? The illness ravaging Julia's body was destroying her mind.  
  
"Bill ain't gonna be back, Jewel. But I will," Jack said, sounding much older than his fifteen years. William looked past his friend. Barbossa arrived during his conversation with Julia, and Camille was happily sitting on the lap of 'Uncle 'Bossa.' Satisfied that his little girl couldn't hear them, William turned his attention back. Jack looked deadly serious as he stared at Julia. He repeated, "I'll be back, savvy? And you know me, luv. Cap'n Jack Sparrow always keeps his word. Always."  
  
When Jack talked like that, Bill had no trouble at all believing that he would become Captain one day. There was a hardness, a coldness, that should be present in the voice of no fifteen year old, even one who spent his life as Jack did. When he sounded like that, you forgot the foolish appearance, because only a fool underestimated Jack Sparrow, whether he was captain yet or not.  
  
Jack touched the back of William's shoulder then, and added in an almost gentle voice, "Now go say 'g-bye' to yer little angel, Bill. Ye will see her again. I promise." William swallowed hard, and walked over to his daughter, who was happily playing with his shipmate's fingers. He didn't hear the conversation between his old friend and his former lover. He didn't want to hear it. Barbossa saw him approach and lifted Camille from his lap.  
  
Camille reached her arms out to him eagerly, then frowned. She touched his face, saying, "Papa, why are you crying? Don't be sad!" He loved this child so much. He knew he and Rosamunde would have children, yes. But Camille was his first-born, the child born of his youthful foolishness. As William Turner settled his daughter on his hip, he was only twenty-three years old. No longer a boy, but not entirely a man either.  
  
"Because I love you so much, Camille, and I will miss you more than words can say. If you remember nothing else, remember that, my Cammy," William answered. Camille peered into his eyes, as if searching for something in particularly, then patted his cheeks in an attempt to comfort him. When that didn't work, she wrapped her arms around William's neck. The young sailor buried his face in the little girl's dark hair.  
  
She would always be his daughter. . .his only daughter. William didn't know how he knew that. But he knew that he and Rosamunde would have only sons. He kissed Camille's dark hair one last time, whispering, "I love you." Then he set her on her feet and stumbled from the house, from this miserable hovel, for the last time. Barbossa went with him. William couldn't turn back, or he would be lost eternally. His heart felt as if it was being torn from his very chest.  
  
Barbossa gently put his hand on William's shoulder, murmuring, "Easy, lad. Gotta pull yerself up by yer bootstraps. Only thing ye can do when a woman betrays ye like that." William swallowed hard, and Barbossa continued with a smile that could almost be teasing, "Then again, that's a good name for ye, lad. It's what ye done ever since we met ya. Pulled yerself up by yer bootstraps. Bootstrap Bill, ye are!" 


	2. The Widow Webster

Wow! Five reviews for the prologue alone! A few things to note before I move to the reviews. First, as you'll notice, this is a Norrington- friendly fic. I originally planned to put Alicia and James together. . .however, Alicia overruled me. (annoyed look) So. If things work out, the love story for James will come out of this one.  
  
Secondly, while I've tried to keep this historically accurate, I've also tried to stay true to the film. I think I've managed to avoid the glaring errors (like referring to people between the ages of thirteen and nineteen as 'teenagers.' That term wasn't coined until after 1945), but my lingo dictionary is still packed, so I may have missed a few.  
  
Reviews:  
  
Magoo: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying this!  
  
Sailor Elf: Actually, I've noticed your liking for that word, but I can also think of a lot of adjectives that would be far worse than 'interesting.' Hope you continue to enjoy this.  
  
Aria-hannah: Thought I might find you here eventually! Glad you like my take on Jack, because he's probably the most difficult character for me to write.  
  
Savvy-Rum-Drinker: Thank you! I'm glad to hear that, and I hope it continues to hold your attention. I shall certainly do my best to keep this up and get more chapters written.  
  
Kitrazzle Fayn: Here you are, me dearie, the next chapter! It took me a bit longer than I anticipated because it wasn't gelling the way I originally planned. Once I stopped arguing with the characters, it worked much better.  
  
On with the story!  
  
Part One  
  
It was a lovely wedding, on a lovely day. Alicia Webster quietly fanned herself as she looked over the guests. It seemed like most of Port Royal turned out for the wedding of the governor's daughter to the local blacksmith. If only to laugh at the sheer absurdity. The very idea of a lady like Elizabeth Swann marrying Will Turner, a blacksmith and the son of a known pirate! And yet, that 'ridiculous idea of a wedding,' as Alicia heard it called, was taking place.  
  
Perhaps Governor Swann thought his daughter was marrying below her. And yet, it seemed to many that he was fond of the young blacksmith. Alicia smiled, thinking of Elizabeth Swann's new husband. She met him almost nine years earlier, when Lieutenant James Norrington brought him to Port Royal. He was twelve at the time, and she was one-and-twenty, newly married. Alicia's smile died as she thought of her late and unlamented husband.  
  
He died not long after their wedding, murdered under mysterious circumstances. The man, if he could indeed be called a man, was split open from gullet to gut. His body was found outside a tavern. As his wife, Alicia was the first and most obvious suspect. She hated him, but she was unconscious when he left to go to the tavern for the last time. The result of yet another beating. Lieutenant Norrington vouched for her, for it was he who found her, with the aid of a frantic young boy. And it was the young lieutenant who carried her to a doctor.  
  
She could have hired an assassin, yes. However, Alicia had not her own money at the time, according to her husband's barrister. It was decided that Ramsey Webster was likely killed by a pirate. What was one more misdeed to add to their list of mischief making? Although the murder of Ramsey Webster would have been considered a public service, by many.  
  
"A magnificent day for a wedding, is it not?" a familiar voice inquired at her elbow. Alicia's smile returned as she looked at her new companion. Commodore James Norrington smiled back, though there was still some sadness in his eyes. Poor man. He did love Elizabeth. James continued, "I was hoping you would be here today, Mrs Webster. I feel caught between two very strong emotions, and it is not a pleasant sensation in the least."  
  
Alicia slipped her arm through his, replying softly, "How many times must I tell you to call me 'Alicia,' my dear Commodore?" Her teasing query made him smile in turn. His soldiers often made the mistake of thinking him without a sense of humor, but over the last few years, Alicia often saw the true James Norrington make an appearance on more than one occasion.  
  
"To quote young Mr Turner, at least once more, as always, my lady," came the reply. Alicia laughed softly. If she was her daughter's age, she would have clapped her hands in delight. James continued, "Where is Miss Tamsyn? I know she is quite taken with Mr Turner." Alicia's laughter wasn't quite as subdued this time, though still not loud enough to attract attention. Her six months as the wife of Ramsey Webster taught her the need for invisibility. Besides, while her daughter's infatuation with the young blacksmith was amusing, it was also worrisome to Alicia.  
  
"Tamsyn is writing a letter, detailing why Will should have married her," Alicia replied after a moment, "and told me last night that the two of you should join forces. I waited until she went to bed before laughing. I did not want her to misunderstand. Tamsyn is alarmingly adult for an eight year old, but she is still just a little girl. And truthfully, James, I sometimes find it hard to believe that so much time has passed."  
  
"She is growing into quite a young lady. You should be proud of her," James remarked and Alicia's smile turned sad. Yes, she was very proud of her daughter, so grateful for such a wonderful gift from such a terrible time in her life. James said after a moment, "I have ever been grateful to Mr Turner for being so persistent when he found you and ran for me. I don't believe I would have ever forgiven myself if you or Tamsyn died because of my stupidity."  
  
"James, it is hardly your fault! You saved both of our lives that night, and never think that I've forgotten that!" Alicia retorted, glaring at him. James ducked his head and Alicia sighed, then went on in a more gentle voice, "Listen to me. You were trapped by the law, James, the same law that gave Mr Webster ownership over me. There was nothing you could have done."  
  
"Sometimes, an act of piracy is the right thing," James said, almost under his breath. Alicia blinked in surprise. James added with a rueful smile, "Something Governor Swann said to me, regarding Jack Sparrow." Alicia laughed and James continued, "You surprise me, Mrs Webster. You seem fond of that pirate." Alicia arched her eyebrows, trying very hard to disguise her annoyance. She was failing miserably, and heard the ice in her own voice.  
  
"Commodore Norrington, I have known worse beings than pirates. It might surprise you, but even Barbossa was once a different man," she replied. The commodore looked shocked. Alicia turned away, suddenly remembering herself and her place. She rarely thought about her early life, simply because she could not forgive her mother. She was sure Julia believed she was doing the right thing. . .but one form of slavery was traded for another.  
  
"Forgive me, I did not mean to offend you. Truly, Alicia, I look on you as a friend. It is only that you startled me. You knew Barbossa once?" James asked. Alicia nodded, staring sightlessly into the crowd. She knew Hector Barbossa. She knew Jack Sparrow. She was bounced on their respective knees, when she wasn't much younger than Tamsyn. There were times when she actually wished either of those men raised her. The good Christians of Port Royal, no doubt, would have been shocked and appalled.  
  
But those same good Christians looked down their noses at her, and helped to bind her in marriage to a man who was incapable of compassion or gentleness, much less love or tenderness. Alicia replied softly, "I knew him before he turned into the monster he became. He wasn't always like that, James. He wasn't always a traitor and a mutineer. Wasn't always so evil that hell itself spat him back out. I remember feeling safe with him. I. . ."  
  
She was on the point of saying more, when the newly married couple appeared in her line of sight. Alicia smiled at both Will and Elizabeth, dropping the subject immediately. Though nearly a year passed since the young girl's ordeal at the hands of Barbossa, Alicia didn't fool herself into thinking that Elizabeth was over it. Such things, such violations, took far more time to heal than just a year. She knew that from painful personal experience.  
  
"Will! Elizabeth! I am so happy for you both!" Alicia said, smiling broadly at the young couple. She took Elizabeth's hands first and kissed the young girl on each cheek, then repeated the gesture with Will. He looked stunned, and she looked radiant. Was she ever that young and innocent? If she was, it seemed like an eternity ago. Elizabeth beamed, the joy dimming ever so slightly when she looked at James. Alicia knew it was never the girl's intention to break James' heart, and that was one reason she forgave young Elizabeth so quickly.  
  
The other reason was far more selfish. Though she was fond of James, Alicia loved Will. Just as Elizabeth did, and Alicia understood the girl did what she believed what had to be done, to save Will. Something Alicia could understand very well. Though nearly twenty-five years passed since her last meeting with her father, his image was burned into her mind. The moment she heard Will Turner's name, almost nine years earlier, she knew whom he was.  
  
And every day since then, as he grew up, he served as a reminder. He looked just like his father. Just like *their* father. Behaved just like the man who helped to create them both. And not for the first time, the young woman wished her father sired two sons, rather than a son and a daughter. Alicia Webster made the marriage her mother wanted. But it cost her dearly, and it taught her that money couldn't replace family. Alicia's family only consisted of her eight year old daughter, and her twenty year old brother. . . and of course, Will didn't know that.  
  
As for family. . .the last thing she learned from her father before he left that last time, driven away by her mother, was that family meant everything. It was because of family that Bootstrap Bill left his doxy and their child. And it was because of family that he vowed to return. Even making a promise that nearly tore out his heart. It was hardly his fault that Julia Monroe refused to keep her promise. It wasn't his fault that rather than contacting him, as *she* promised, Julia chose to sell her daughter to a wealthy couple.  
  
Yes, Alicia Webster knew exactly whom Will Turner was. She knew that it was his blood that was necessary to set the Black Pearl free. Jack told her the truth before he left Port Royal the last time. He told her everything. He told her how her father died. He told her about her brother's actions in the name of love. He even told her why her blood wouldn't break the curse of the Black Pearl. It was very simple. She didn't have the cursed medallion.  
  
There was another reason, as Jack well knew, for he told his crew that Will was Bootstrap Bill's only child. Alicia. . .or Camille, as she was known then. . .was the child of Bootstrap Bill and Julia. Everyone knew that. But Bootstrap wasn't the only man who loved Julia. So did Barbossa. Even as depraved as he became, he could never bring himself to harm the daughter of his precious Julia. Even if she did carry the same blood as the man who ultimately condemned him to a living hell.  
  
Yet, with those questions answered, others remained. For one. . .why did Jack not come to her for aid when he was captured in Port Royal? For another, how could they be sure that her father was dead? Yes, she knew that he was dropped into the ocean with cannon balls attached to his bootstraps. And she knew that he sent his cursed coin to England and Will. But. . .he was still cursed. Just like the others.  
  
Ten years passed since that day. . .who was to say that her father didn't find some way out of his un-natural bonds? He was immortal. . .he could breathe under water. Alicia wasn't convinced that her father truly was dead. Even if the coin passed to her younger brother, her father still took part in the raid on that accursed island. He would be marked by the same curse as the others. . .Barbossa had to know that.  
  
There was no way of knowing. Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn't. And perhaps she would never truly know what happened to her father. To *their* father. She was unaware of the time she stared silently at her brother under the brim of her hat, until a soft, almost anxious voice asked, "Mistress Webster. . .are you ill?" Alicia shook herself. She looked into her brother's dark eyes, and struggled against gasping. He really did look alarmingly like her father.  
  
She would have thought by now, the resemblance wouldn't take her breath away. His resemblance to William Turner became noticeable about four or five years earlier. And yet, each time she looked at her younger brother, Alicia was magically transported into the past. Sometimes, no matter how hard she tried to see her brother, it was always their father staring back at her. Every time she looked into Will's brown eyes, she felt like she was five years old, and staring into her father's eyes, the last time she saw him. She understood his agony now. Alicia couldn't imagine being forcibly separated from Tamsyn, and hoped she never would. She understood a lot more now.  
  
"I am well. Did I thank you for the sword you made Diego?" Alicia answered, grabbing onto the first topic of conversation she could legitimately claim as an excuse to talk with her brother a little while longer. She felt vaguely guilty about asking James to stand here and listen to this, but so rare was the opportunity that she could speak to her brother for any length of time. Even if he didn't know they were brother and sister.  
  
And there was no need for James Norrington to know everything about Diego. It was known that he was her husband's by-blow, and that he sometimes visited her and Tamsyn while he was in port. But there were other things about Diego no one, not James, not even Will, needed to know. Her brother smiled, his dark eyes lighting up as they always did when someone complimented him on his work, and he replied, "At least ten times, Mistress Webster."  
  
Curiously, Elizabeth was in no hurry to drag her husband away, so Alicia took the unexpected gift that was offered. So, she continued, "Good. Diego has been so kind to Tamsyn and myself, I wanted to do something special for his most recent birthday. I thought immediately of you. He is something of a collector," (well, that was true enough), "and he was quite delighted with it."  
  
"I must admit, I thought almost everyone in Port Royal was convinced that Mr Brown was the blacksmith who crafted those swords. Then I learn that not only did Commodore Norrington know the truth, but you have known all along. How?" Will asked. He looked so innocent, so honestly amazed that the subterfuge no longer worked. Alicia looked up at James, whose smile didn't seem in the least bit forced. Strange. She would have thought he was holding onto his composure with both hands.  
  
Since he seemed so relaxed, Alicia asked with a grin for her long- time friend, "Do you wish to tell him the truth, James, or shall I?" James made a sweeping gesture, almost a mock-bow. Hmm. He was full of surprises today! Alicia turned her attention back to her brother, explaining, "Most of us noticed that Mister Brown was often inebriated. I would not say it is impossible, however, I would say it is *most* difficult to turn out such excellent work while totally and complete drunk."  
  
On the other hand, Mister Brown wasn't Jack Sparrow, who seemed to think best when he was drunk. Assuming, of course, he wasn't pretending to be drunk, the way he pretended to be crazy. Something, Alicia had no doubt, her brother learned while the pair sailed off to rescue Elizabeth. Realizing that she monopolized her brother's time, the widow told her new sister-in-law, "My apologies, dear Elizabeth. I should let you dance with your husband. Thank you so much for inviting me to your wedding."  
  
"I am so glad you came! You know, my father has never been able to make up his mind whether he admires you for your graciousness with Diego, or appalled that you openly acknowledge him as your family," Elizabeth replied. Alicia was grateful that Elizabeth kept her voice low. Such things were not acknowledged in public. Everyone knew such things happened, such things existed. . .but it wasn't spoken of in polite company. The same polite company that allowed such things to happen.  
  
More pleasantries were exchanged, then Will and Elizabeth made their way. There were other guests that required their attention. With a soft sigh of resignation, Alicia watched her brother go. There would be other times. Other times, once she could figure out a way to ask Will about their father without giving anything away. She wasn't ready to tell him the truth. She didn't think he was ready to hear it, either. Not when he was still reeling from the revelation that their father was a pirate.  
  
James said into the silence that followed, "Forgive me for asking, but your regard for. . . your husband's son. Is that a result of your own experiences?" Alicia frowned, and James added, "I know about your mother, Alicia. I presume that is how you knew Mr Sparrow and Mr Barbossa." Alicia felt her jaw drop open in surprise, and the commodore smiled almost boyishly, adding, "Oh, come! I investigated your husband's appointment with serendipity, you know!"  
  
Alicia shook her head in disbelief. When she could finally manage to say something, it was the totally inane, "Well. This is most unexpected!" *Very intelligent,* she told herself scathingly. After a moment, she continued, "So, you know about my past. Well, then. I would have to say. . .yes. Yes, growing up as I did, first with my mother, then with my master and mistress, that is where my. . .that is why I behave as I do toward Diego."  
  
"I see," came the thoughtful reply, "when I meant to hang Jack Sparrow eight months ago, I investigated his whereabouts when your late husband was killed. I would have liked to give him a medal, if he turned out to be a guilty party." Now Alicia was stunned. Did James Norrington just say that? The commodore added, "However, I am convinced it was not Sparrow. Though he is, without a doubt, the worst pirate I've ever heard of. . .he is not that vicious."  
  
Alicia couldn't resist. She waggled one finger at him, saying, "First, he might be the worst pirate you've ever heard of him. But you *have* heard of him." James rolled his eyes, and Alicia barely bit back a laugh. She knew Jack would say that, if James told him he was the worst pirate he ever heard of. And she knew James would say such a thing. The widow continued, "And second. . .Jack Sparrow can be vicious. Though he is a pirate, Jack is a gentle person at heart. And it's the gentle who are the most dangerous when they are pushed too far. Would Jack have killed my husband, if he got word that Webster almost killed me? Of a certainty. Would he have killed him in such a manner? That, I do not know."  
  
The pair sat silently on the bench, neither really seeing the crowd. After a moment, James said, "Well. Enough of such a gloomy topic on such a magnificent day. Mistress Webster, would you care to dance?" Alicia accepted the escape route she was given, and smiled at the commodore. James took her hand and drew her to her feet. They were, after all, at a wedding!  
  
. . .  
  
Elizabeth Swann Turner watched James Norrington and Alicia Webster with interest. She remained friends with the commodore over the months since she chose Will. Or perhaps, it would be better to say that they really became friends this time. He still loved her. . .Elizabeth knew that. A man like James Norrington didn't give his heart lightly. And she regretted hurting him. But her heart belonged to Will Turner. That was the case ever since they were children.  
  
Was she the slightest bit jealous that the commodore's attention was turning to Alicia Webster? No, Elizabeth decided after a moment. The widow was always kind to her, without treating Elizabeth like a child. And she wasn't really old. If Elizabeth was correct, she thought she remembered her father saying that Mrs Webster was one and twenty when they arrived at Port Royal. . .which meant that the widow was approaching thirty. Not old at all. And heaven knew she deserved some happiness, after what that horrid man did to her.  
  
That, Elizabeth knew about from Will. Mr Webster's murder took place only weeks after their arrival at Port Royal. Will was running errands for Mr Brown, as part of his new apprenticeship. To this day, Elizabeth still couldn't remember why Will even went to Mr Webster's home, but he did, and found Mrs Webster unconscious in the foyer. She was curled up in a ball, and it wasn't until much later that Elizabeth learned the young widow was trying to protect her unborn child before she lost consciousness.  
  
Will ran from the house, screaming for help. The first person he encountered was Lt James Norrington. At first disinclined to listen to the boy's frantic gasps that someone was hurt, only Will's breathy explanation that he thought Mrs Webster was with child broke through. At that point, it became a race between the boy and the man to reach the house first. Later, Will explained that his mother was a midwife who sometimes cared for pregnant women brutalized by their husbands. Such a thing was too horrible for the child Elizabeth to comprehend.  
  
"What do you think has them so intrigued?" Will asked softly at her side. Elizabeth didn't answer at first. No, she wanted to savor the feel of Will's breath against her skin, his arms around her waist, and the knowledge that she was now Elizabeth Turner. When she told Barbossa, all those months ago, that she was Elizabeth Turner, was she indulging in her quiet and private fantasy of loving the young blacksmith? Perhaps. And perhaps she was trying to save the life of her childhood friend.  
  
For whatever reason, she made that choice. . .and realized the days that followed that she loved Will. He became what he hated most, in order to save her. He was willing to sacrifice his life, his freedom, perhaps even his very soul, to protect her. When the Interceptor blew up, presumably killing the reluctant pirate, Elizabeth wanted to die with him. He loved her, as she learned at Jack's hanging. . .and she loved him.  
  
Now, she was his wife, and Elizabeth had no doubts that more adventures would find them. She heard about the curse from Jack and from Barbossa, and as the days turned into weeks, then into months, Elizabeth stopped and thought about what it meant. While the coin was no longer in the possession of Bootstrap Bill Turner, Will's father, he was cursed, just as the others were. Which meant. . .which meant there was a good chance he was still alive.  
  
Almost eleven years passed since Bootstrap Bill was sent to the bottom of the ocean. Was it possible that he slipped from his bonds and made his way back to shore? If so, why did he never seek out his son? Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully. That was the one thing she couldn't comprehend. Will murmured, "Elizabeth?" The new bride mentally shook herself, smiling as her new husband's arms tightened around her waist.  
  
"I'm not certain. I'm just pleased to see her smile. She's too sad, too often," Elizabeth acknowledged. Will sighed quietly, but there was no exasperation in the sound. Only sadness. They knew little of the Widow Webster's life. They knew her given name was 'Alicia,' and that she was nine and twenty. They knew she had a little girl, Thomasina, an adorable if outspoken little girl. Or perhaps the fact that she was so outspoken made her adorable? That was possible, since Tamsyn saw no point in keeping her adoration for Will secret.  
  
Tamsyn couldn't make up her mind about Elizabeth, something the young woman understood very well. Did she like Elizabeth or did she hate her because Elizabeth was marrying Will? For her own part, Elizabeth found it hard pressed not to be pleased by Tamsyn's confusion. Not because Elizabeth was a cruel girl, but because how could she not like someone who saw Will as she did?  
  
Besides, Tamsyn reminded Elizabeth a great deal of herself at that age. Tamsyn was a trifle more outspoken because she wasn't the daughter of the governor, and certain things weren't expected of her that were expected of the child Elizabeth. In fact, she had far more freedom, freedom that her mother won for her with the bruises on her body. Elizabeth hoped Tamsyn never learned what kind of a man her father was, but to date, Tamsyn wasn't particularly interested in her father. She had her mother, and that was all she needed.  
  
Will said softly, "I say this not to denigrate the commodore, Elizabeth, but because it seems wrong to me. I do not believe the commodore is right for her. I know you are matchmaking for them in your mind. . .I can practically see it in your eyes. He would never hurt her the way that. . .monster did. But can you truly imagine her as the wife of the commodore? Being happy like that? She's too much like you, Elizabeth, too much of a free spirit."  
  
Elizabeth thought briefly about debating this point, then changed her mind. It was her wedding day, and now was not the time to be debating such things, much less with her husband. She turned in his arms, smiling at him, and wound her arms around his neck. Elizabeth whispered, "We can continue this later, Mr Turner. However, I believe my new husband owes me another dance."  
  
Will, who really had no liking for dancing, smiled anyhow and answered softly, "I believe you are quite correct, my lady." Elizabeth swallowed hard. Will didn't like dancing, yet another sacrifice he made for her. So many sacrifices made for her. . .to protect her, to free her. For her sake, he helped to commandeer a ship, he broke a man out of prison. Was there nothing he was *not* willing to do for her? If there was, neither had found such a limit as yet. Elizabeth understood that love was about give and take, but from her perspective, she had yet to do anything other than take.  
  
The new bride glanced over her shoulder as Will led her back to the dancers. She looked at the tree where Commodore James Norrington was engaged in an earnest conversation with Alicia Webster. She, of all people, would understand how Elizabeth felt. As the years passed, Elizabeth heard her father speak poorly of Ramsey Webster, and how nothing his young wife could have done would have ever pleased him. Her father knew such men before.  
  
Weatherby Swann, whatever his other flaws were, was a fair and honest man, a loving father. He would do anything for Elizabeth, and she knew it. She would do anything for him as well. Weeks after her engagement to Will was announced, her father took Elizabeth aside and he admitted that while he would have preferred she marry James Norrington, he was pleased that she was marrying a man who would love her and cherish her. He would have hated to see his only daughter, whom he loved deeply, trapped in a marriage with a brutal man, with no escape save death. Whether it was hers or his. Elizabeth knew he was referring to Alicia Webster, and to other women like her.  
  
She would speak to Alicia Webster when the opportunity presented itself. She would ask the older woman how to give in a marriage, in a relationship, as well as take. With one more glance at her friend and the young widow, Elizabeth Swann Turner looked away from the past, and into the eyes of her future. She smiled at her husband. Her husband. Elizabeth stood a little straighter. She was now Mrs Will Turner, and she would not betray her husband's heart.  
  
. . .  
  
He loved weddings. Mind you, this was one wedding he wasn't exactly *supposed* to attend, as he wasn't exactly even supposed to be in Port Royal. However, he couldn't exactly stay away, either. Which was why he was now up in a tree, watching first the wedding, then the party afterward. At least the lass was marryin' young William, instead of that popinjay she planned to marry, in order to save the boy.  
  
They were dancing now, young William and his Elizabeth. Jack Sparrow ('Capn' Jack Sparrow, thank ye very much) smiled as he watched them, then frowned a little. Well. This was both good and bad. It was good that Bootstrap Bill's two children found each other, though why in the name of Poseidon little Cammy was calling herself 'Alicia,' he didn't know. What wasn't so good was that little Cammy was keeping company with said popinjay, Commodore Norrington. Surely, she had more sense than her late, foolish mother?  
  
Jack tilted his head to one side, observing his friend's daughter. For all that Will Turner could do some amazingly stupid things, he was also young. Not even one and twenty yet, the same age as his sister when Will first arrived in Port Royal. He was younger than Julia Monroe was when she chose to sell her only child into indentured servitude. He was younger than that foolish woman, but he would never be as foolish as his father's doxy.  
  
Well, that was one thing, at least, in Cammy's favor. Jack knew his little angel, now a grown woman, had a little angel of her own, a little girl she named 'Thomasina.' And Jack knew she would never allow such a thing to happen to her child.  
  
Jack wondered. Did she know that was the name of her paternal grandmother, a most sterling woman with the unlikely and unfortunate name of 'Thomasina Turner,' or was it happenstance? Since the Cammy he remembered would never be so cruel as to visit such an awful name on an innocent child without a good reason, he could only conclude that Cammy knew that her grandmother was 'Thomasina,' and knew what a dreadful name it was. That would also explain why she called her daughter the much more appealing 'Tamsyn.'  
  
While Jack still didn't know, though he spoke to Cammy within the last year, was why she called herself 'Alicia.' The last time they talked, he was sneaking back into Port Royal about two months after the Black Pearl became his once more. He was in to get some supplies, or so he said, but he was actually checking up on Will and Elizabeth. Making sure Cammy's little brother didn't do something incredibly stupid.  
  
He snuck in, just long enough to find that out, and to talk to his best friend's only daughter. Gibbs didn't know about her, of course. None of his crew did. Twouldn't do, for them to find out about her. They might want to know why he didn't use Cammy as leverage, along with the boy. And then, eventually, they would realize that Cammy actually meant something to him, which would have been a very BAD thing. For both Cammy and Jack.  
  
Barbossa *knew* where Cammy was. He knew she lived in Port Royal, knew that she was a widow with a small daughter. He even knew that her name was 'Alicia Webster' now. Cammy would have been no good as leverage, because Barbossa knew about her. There was one other reason. Cammy didn't have the medallion. Bootstrap Bill sent his cursed medallion to his son in England, because Will was far away. . .and because he had no idea where his daughter was. Nor was he willing to take the chance that Barbossa still loved Julia.  
  
Jack supposed he *could* have used Cammy as leverage, but the idea of using someone he once saw as a little sister made him feel dirty. Besides, it could have backfired. Barbossa could still be in love with Julia, and unwilling to use her daughter's blood to break the curse, especially when it was Will who held the cursed gold, rather than his sister. Or he may have grown to hate Julia, as Jack and Bootstrap did, especially after they learned that Julia sold her daughter into slavery.  
  
And it was for that reason that Jack would never forgive Julia. He began hating her after she ordered Bill not to return until she sent word to him that she had little time left. And he warned her of the dangers of what she was doing. He warned her again when her fever-addled brain came up with the idea of selling Cammy to pay off her landlord. . .forcing Cammy to work off her mother's debt. Julia actually believed the stories about great masters taking an interest in pretty young maids.  
  
And aye, they did that. . .but rarely did they marry these servants. Jack should know. His mum was one such young maid. Besides, while Cammy was a pleasant-looking lass, she was no beauty. Bill would have argued with him about that, no doubt, but he was the girl's father. On the other hand, Jack had to admit, Cammy grew prettier over the last few years. Especially when she was angry with him, as she was the last time they saw each other.  
  
Jack had to smile at that. The sweet, curious, eager little girl he remembered grew into a quiet, sad young woman. . .right up until the time he let it slip that he was in Port Royal, knew that she was there. . .and didn't ask for her help. Then she turned into a raving little Fury. Jack was afraid she would a) make herself sick, b) wake up her daughter, or c) bring Norrington down on his head. Again.  
  
She didn't, but it was probably a near thing. Waking little Tamsyn was another near thing, and the mumbling from the little girl's room was probably the only thing that calmed Cammy down enough to be reasonable. That didn't stop her from slapping him, however. Jack frowned and rubbed at his cheek, as if he could still feel the sting of her palm connecting with his skin. Damn the girl, she could hit *hard.* And what was it, with these women slapping him? Still, once again, he couldn't deny that he deserved it.  
  
Will looked like his father. . .but Cammy behaved like him, in more than one way. Family was most important of all to her, and in her eyes, Jack was a member of that family. He hurt her when he didn't ask for help. She had the money, she had the resources, she had the desire. She could have helped him. . .if he just asked for it. If she knew he needed help, she would have been there for him.  
  
That was the heart of the matter, wasn't it? Jack sighed, rubbing at his eyes, careful to avoid the kohl. Cammy went through enough already. That old git she was married to. . .Jack didn't know who killed that one, but he would give the killer a medal for it. Even if it was Barbossa, which Jack knew it wasn't. Nah, if it was Barbossa, the old bastard would have been carved up, instead of sliced up, with his guts on the outside, for all the world to see.  
  
And, after Barbossa was finished with him, he really *would* have been a eunuch, as Jack asked Will when they first met. Probably would have left the remains out for the public's view. No. No, it wasn't Jack's old enemy, and it wasn't Jack himself, though he would have liked to claim credit for it. He didn't kill unless someone deserved to die. Like Barbossa. Or the late and unlamented Ramsey Webster. Jack mentally saluted Webster's killer, whoever that happened to be, then began to shimmy down the tree.  
  
Unfortunately, or fortunately, as the case may be, he didn't quite look where he was going. Nor did he notice that the couple whom he was observing only moments earlier were no longer dancing, much less in the same spot. Thus, as he reached the bottom of the tree and turned around, he found a familiar face waiting there for him. Jack smiled brightly and the newcomer sighed with a shake of the head. The pirate captain tried not to laugh, for he knew it would only earn him yet *another* slap.  
  
"Jack, Jack, Jack. It's a good thing for you I saw you first and sent James off on an errand. Or you could have been in serious trouble right about now," Camille Turner said, folding her arms over her chest. Jack briefly considered playing innocent, then dismissed that. No, she would never believe him. And like her new sister-in-law, Camille Turner would never let him hear the end of something when she was right. Aye, now there was a frightful thought. . .Elizabeth and Cammy joining forces!  
  
"I had to come, luv. Just to make sure that brother of yours didn't do anything stupid," Jack finally said. A familiar light flared in Cammy's dark eyes. . .right before she slapped him across the face. Jack's head jerked sideways with the force of the blow, and he looked at her slowly, more than a little annoyed at how good his little Cammy was getting with these slaps, asking in a hurt voice, "Now wha' did I do to deserve that?"  
  
"My brother isn't stupid. He may not always think first, but it doesn't make him stupid. It makes him young and impulsive. He's learning. And he had a lot to re-think, in those days. You turned his world upside down, and expected him to just accept it? He had to accept that his father, that our father, was a pirate. He had to accept that his life was made up of lies. Now, if you expect him to re-think everything in his life, without a struggle, then you're the one who's stupid!" Cammy growled at him.  
  
That brought Jack up short. She growled at him. His Cammy, his little angel, actually *growled* at him. Well yes, it was to defend her brother. . .but she growled at him! It was a strange situation for Jack Sparrow. Rarely was he at a loss for words. So, instead of answering her, Jack changed the subject and asked, "You know, you've never told me, lass. Why did you change your name to 'Alicia,' and when did you change it? And while I'm thinkin' on it. . .why are you keepin' time with Commodore Norrington? Stuffed shirts ain't your style, luv."  
  
Cammy sighed and rubbed at her eyes, answering, "The answers to your questions are, because I like him and he can make me laugh; it was changed for me when I was fourteen and became a woman; and my former mistress chose it because it means 'truth.' It was her way of telling the master if he put his hands somewhere they didn't belong, she would find out." Jack puzzled through the answers he was given, then put them together.  
  
"But that still doesn't explain why you call yourself 'Alicia,' luv, when you have a perfectly good name," he finally said. His reward this time was an exasperated expression. Jack continued, careful not to engage in his sideways logic, "Honestly. How in the bloody hell do you expect people who knew you and loved you to find you when you use a name they don't know? They come expecting 'Cammy' or 'Camille,' but they find 'Alicia' instead. Where's the sense in that?"  
  
"Are you telling me that my father *is* still alive?" Cammy asked, pouncing on Jack's words the way Jack often pounced on rum. The pirate blinked at her. Was her father still alive? Why would she think that? Cammy raised her eyebrows expectantly, adding, "Well, you did say people who knew me and loved me. Barbossa is dead. You know I use the name 'Alicia' now. That leaves only my father."  
  
Well. That was unexpected. And Cammy wasn't finished yet, either. She continued, "Ever since you told me about the curse, I've been thinking. My father was cursed, just as Barbossa was. And even when the coin was no longer in his possession, the curse remained. Now. You told me that Mr Gibbs repeated to you, the story of how my father supposedly died. The story told to my brother aboard the Pearl. . .how Barbossa attached cannons to my father's bootstraps and then threw him overboard. But Jack, my father was still under the curse. That was ten years ago. Do you really think he would have still been down there, after all this time?"  
  
She almost sounded like she believed it. And Jack wanted to believe it, but then reality intruded. Being mad had its share of advantages, but there was one little fact Cammy was overlooking. As gently as he could, Jack asked, "All you say is true, luv, I'll not deny that. But if your father was truly alive. . .he would have contacted you or Will by now. If he was alive, and I'll not say he is, but if he was alive. . .why hasn't he contacted you?"  
  
"He has no idea where to look for me, Jack. I could be dead, for all he knows. And the same with Will. But mark my words. My father would have realized that by sending the medallion to Will, he inadvertently put my brother's life in danger. . .and he would have found a way to get free, to protect his child in any way he could," Cammy answered. Bloody hell. The lass really did think this through. There was more, though, for Cammy added quietly, "I'd do no less for Tamsyn."  
  
Well now, that did put a different spin on things. Jack was looking at this through the eyes of a pirate, and rightfully so, because that was exactly what he was. But Cammy was a woman, and more than that, she was a mother. Bootstrap once told him that his whole view of the world would change when Jack had children. Jack answered that was why he had no intention of ever fathering any children. He was quite happy all by his onesy, thank you!  
  
Cammy wasn't finished, either. Damn the lass, she was looking at this from all the angles. Just the way he, Barbossa, and Bill taught her. It was definitely a moment when Jack wished she was as rash as her younger brother. But Cammy was as cool-headed as Will was rash. Of course she would be, as she was nine years older than he was, but even so. Jack wished she wasn't so cool-headed.  
  
It was hard to convince someone that they were wrong when they already thought of possible answers to the objections the convincer might raise. Bloody hell. He would leave now. Yes, that was what he would do. He would leave now, before yet another Turner offspring pulled him into something that didn't concern him. He said, "Well, lass, you seem to have all the answers. . .I should be going now, before your friend Norrington decides to clap me into irons once more."  
  
Now she looked. . .disappointed. Oh, Jack hated that expression! She looked just like Bootstrap when she looked at him like that. That quiet, 'I expected better of you, Jack' look his old friend always wore when he thought Jack was doing something incredibly stupid. That brought the pirate up short. Now that he thought about it, he did his share of incredibly stupid things. Maybe the lass was right. . .maybe he shouldn't call Will 'stupid' for the things he did.  
  
"If you wish, of course, I'll not stop you from leaving. But I thought you would be interested in finding out the truth. My father was your friend, Jack. And if he's still alive, wouldn't it be wonderful for the two of you to sail together again? Just like in the old days?" Cammy asked, her dark eyes shining. Worse. . .she was giving him the Look. The one that allowed her mother to wrap her father around her little finger. It worked even better for the daughter than it did for the mother. . .the daughter wasn't as interested in manipulating others as the mother was. That made it more dangerous.  
  
Even so, it wouldn't work on Jack Sparrow, not on Captain Jack Sparrow! He was the terror of the Spanish Main, the scourge of the East India Company. . .and he would not be swayed by a chit of a girl (never mind that she was almost thirty years old) whose mother was a mistress of manipulation. The very idea that he could be induced into such daftness by the wiles of a woman! Feeling much better, Jack opened his mouth, and was dismayed to hear, "All right, lass, no need to give me the Look. Where do you want to start in finding Father dearest?"  
  
He did not just say that. Jack clamped his jaws shut, but the words echoed mockingly in his ears. He wasn't just daft, he was totally mad! Where would he begin looking for Bootstrap Bill Turner? The lass had a point, if he was cursed as well, he would have spent the last ten years underwater, unable to die. And Bootstrap would have found a way to free himself from his bonds. He was thirty-eight at the time of his presumed death, and unlikely to be so foolish as his twenty year old son. He glowered at his friend's daughter, muttering, "Bloody hell! If you're right. . ."  
  
He didn't finish the sentence. It was too much. He was right the first time, she was just like Elizabeth. . .if she was right about this, there would be no living with her after that. Cammy smiled then. Not the gloating smile her mother wore when she got her way, but a relieved smile, one which told Jack she would have conducted her own investigation, by her onesies. . .but was very glad she didn't have to.  
  
"Well, the first thing we need to do, is get you out of Port Royal before James notices my absence, and before anyone notices your presence. Jack, you knew my father better than anyone. If anyone would know where he would go, once he resurfaced. . .literally. . .it would be you. Besides, you're a master of disguise. . .you can go anywhere, be anyone, and get all the information you need!" Cammy explained with enthusiasm.  
  
Damn her, her passion was becoming contagious. During the last several months, repairs continued on the Pearl, and even the old joys of plundering and pillaging were growing boring. Jack needed a new venture, a new challenge, to hold his attention. None of his crew were as rash as Will, and thus, they were not as in need of guidance. Maybe this was just what he needed. The pirate captain puffed up as passion stirred within his soul once more.  
  
He took off his hat, sweeping a deep bow to his little angel, and said, "Cap'n Jack Sparrow, luv, at your service. But a few rules need to be explained, savvy?" Cammy nodded expectantly, and Jack continued, "Number one, I do the work by me onesies. I can go places and talk to people you cannot. Rule number two. . .any information you get, is passed to me. You do not put yourself at risk for any reason."  
  
"My first priority is my daughter, Jack," came the response. Jack tilted his head, considering that for a moment, then nodded. Cammy continued, "I can live with your rules. I have a few of my own. First, you investigate. . .but I wanted to be informed of progress. When you were almost hung, I saw a parrot. It seemed odd to me, because it was flying freely. I later learned from Elizabeth that the parrot belonged to a member of your crew. I don't expect you to endanger your life, but send a message to me by way of that parrot."  
  
"Carrier parrot. Hmm. That's an interesting idea. That's a very interesting idea," Jack murmured. He was already laying out plans, charting out a course. As he told Will, it was often a case of waiting for the opportune moment. Cap'n Jack Sparrow might have been daft, but he most assuredly was not stupid. He planned, looked at all eventualities and consequences, and then planned more. Jack asked, "Anything else?"  
  
"Of course. I spent the first five years of my life around pirates, Jack, I learned how to negotiate and bargain," came the prompt reply. Jack smiled, flashing his gold teeth at her. Ahh, she made him so proud! They taught her well, between the three of them. Cammy continued, "When you do feel comfortable with coming to Port Royal under the commodore's nose, let me know, and we'll set up a meeting place not far from where I live. We can meet, and I can ask someone to watch over Tamsyn while you tell me whatever you've discovered."  
  
"Cammy, me dear lass, do not concern yourself. For now, luv, I should be going, before the aforementioned commodore returns to discover his new lady love in conversation with a known pirate. Tell me something, lass. . .do you know if he's a eunuch?" Jack asked, dropping his voice to a conversational tone. Cammy's dark eyes narrowed. That was the only warning he got before she slapped him. Again.  
  
"Before you ask, Jack, yes, you *did* deserve that. Commodore Norrington happens to be my friend, a good friend. He saved my life and the life of my daughter. He spoke up for me when his superior officer considered me a suspect in my husband's murder. And maybe he's somewhat stiff, but he's a good man, an honorable man, and I will not allow you to denigrate him like that!" Cammy snapped. Right. And now was a good time to leave, before she broke his jaw!  
  
. . .  
  
While Jack Sparrow was at the Swann-Turner wedding incognito, his first mate, AnaMaria, was retrieving supplies. That actually had two purposes. First, and most obviously, she gathered the supplies they would need for their next several months at see. And secondly, it gave her an opportunity to listen to the gossip around the marketplace. AnaMaria rarely wore her breeches when she was gathering supplies. . .preferring to blend in with locals.  
  
People who saw her assumed she was buying things for her master and mistress, and AnaMaria did nothing to dissuade them from that opinion. She kept her eyes lowered, not because she was ashamed or because she felt inferior to these people, but to hide her contempt for them. Most of them, for all their high and mighty airs, weren't in the least bit superior to her. AnaMaria was a pirate, to be sure, but she was honest about it. By the same token, she listened freely to conversations around the market, because her 'status' made her invisible.  
  
And the conversation she was currently hearing was *very* interesting indeed. AnaMaria listened intently as a woman who just arrived from England went on and on about a horrid experience in her terrible journey to the Spanish Main. AnaMaria rolled her eyes under her hat. Twit. However, though the woman was clearly a twit, what she had to say *was* interesting. It seemed that one of the remaining pirate ships, the Diablo, attacked the ship on which the twit was traveling.  
  
AnaMaria wondered if the woman realized that 'Diablo' was Spanish for 'devil,' or if she even cared. The female pirate heard of the Diablo, of course. Its captain was a second rate version of Barbossa. For reasons she couldn't fully comprehend, there were actually people who thought highly of the late pirate and wanted to be like him. Didn't seem to understand that it was the pirates like Barbossa who made life difficult for the rest of them.  
  
So, the 'Diablo' attacked the ship traveling from England. Nothing unusual. However, what *was* unusual was the way this particular story ended. Another ship intervened. And from the way the twit described it, it almost sounded like another pirate ship. However, not many pirate ships carried the innocuous sounding name of 'Camille.' And most pirate ships wouldn't come to the aid of a Royal Navy ship under attack by another pirate ship.  
  
And yet, that was exactly what happened. Ana committed the details to her memory. The woman saw the other ship from her stateroom, where she was confined for the duration of the battle. Like the 'Black Pearl,' this new ship, this 'Camille' had as its figurehead the head and torso of a woman. But the figurehead of the 'Camille' had the woman's hands cupped in front of her, as if cupping the face of a lover.  
  
She flew no flag. And the only person she saw clearly was the young man who fought outside her window, against a pirate who was trying to gain access to her stateroom in this way. He was no more than thirty years old, with shoulder-length black hair and dark eyes. And, she added, fluttering her fan suggestively, he was quite handsome. After viewing that young man, she could understand the reason for the romance of piracy!  
  
Which confirmed AnaMaria's original opinion. The woman was an idiot. However, right now, she was also a valuable source of information. According to the newcomer, the 'Diablo' was last seen sinking. . .and the 'Camille' took no damage at all. Interesting. Most of the Navy ships were incapable of fighting pirate ships. The rules of engagement, the ones young Will Turner spoke of.  
  
Yes, it sounded like this 'Camille' was another pirate ship. But questions remained. First, who was captaining her? The more Ana listened to the woman's story, the more the captain of the rescuing ship sounded like Jack. He sounded daft. . .as Gibbs would say, daft like Jack. His plans usually succeeded because they were daft. And Neptune knew that Jack wasn't exactly your typical pirate. After all, what sane pirate would have dove into the ocean after Elizabeth Swann? No one but Jack, of course. Although that idea was a little on the frightful side to AnaMaria. Another Jack out there? It was all the lovely pirate could do to keep from shuddering at the very idea.  
  
Ana just hoped this captain didn't steal the 'Camille' away from her rightful owner. She quietly paid for her purchases. . .no sense in attracting unwanted attention, after all. That was Jack's specialty, not hers. Ana had enough things going against her, simply by being a dark- skinned female pirate. She wasn't about to make her own life more difficult by bringing unwanted attention to herself.  
  
As she headed back to the 'Pearl,' Ana wondered if Jack was finished at the Swann-Turner wedding yet. She hoped so. She wanted to tell him about the 'Camille,' and see what he thought. Ana was unwilling to give up on her dream of once more having her own ship. Though Jack was a good captain, the 'Pearl' wasn't her ship. And Ana craved freedom, just as Jack did. To be the mistress of her own destiny.  
  
On the other hand. . .much as she hated to admit it, she almost enjoyed the camaraderie she felt on the 'Pearl.' Were she the captain, she would have to find a crew whom she trusted, and that wasn't such an easy thing to do. She had only to look at her daft captain to know that. He was betrayed by his crew once. Ana sighed in spite of herself as she made her way back to the meeting point, as ever careful to keep an eye around her.  
  
Never, in her wildest dreams, did AnaMaria imagine that the daft captain of the 'Camille' might hold the key to making her fondest wish come true. Sometimes, the daft or the mad are the most capable of making the impossible happen. 


	3. Old Friends, Old Enemies

Hello, I'm back! I've decided to take this three-day weekend to catch up on my writing. Before we get to the new chapter, let me do the shout-out for the reviewers and add a quick author's note. '_Pirates of the Caribbean'_ took place in the seventeenth century. Ergo, the characters will not be politically correct. Last year, I was on a list that involved the Old West and one of the members flamed another because a bad guy in her story used a racial epithet. Do I like the way they talked? No. Am I gonna sugarcoat it? Only enough so that it fits in a PG/PG-13 story.  
  
Now, onto the reviews.  
  
Beak: Hello, there! Thank you for reviewing, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I would have updated sooner, but I'm writing in ten different fandoms, working on three novels, and working a forty-hour job. Plus, I'm looking for another job. Just please be patient, and I will try to stay more on top of things.  
  
Kelly: Thank you! Over the next several chapters, I have several more things to work in. This chapter sees the introduction of the villain.  
  
Kitrazzle: Well, as you find out in this chapter, Bootstrap doesn't exactly consider the '_Camille_' a pirate ship. However, both you and AnaMaria are perfectly correct. Ana will continue to be a part of the major story, though not as a love interest for Jack. Hope that doesn't disappoint you, but I don't think Jack can really love anyone as much as he loves the Pearl.  
  
Sailor Elf: But it's so much FUN to slap Jack! Especially when he's trying to figure out whether or not he deserved it. And I'll do much worse to him before it's all over. Do I hurt him as badly as I do Ardeth in my _Mummy_ stories? Nope. . .at least not physically. Think. . .well, just think of how I torment Rick O'Connell, and you'll have the idea.  
  
Part Two  
  
He stood straight and tall on the deck of his ship, eyes turned eternally toward land. There were times when the woman now approaching him thought he was a statue. A living, breathing statue. For so many years, he took no food. . .though she knew he was hungry. For so many years, he would not rest, would not leave his place here on the deck. He could take no food, could take no rest, could not feel the elements.  
  
And even now, eight months after his freedom was won with the blood of his child, he could usually be found here. She didn't know how he knew land was in that direction. Even after nearly ten years at sea, her sense of direction was off. She wasn't a daughter of the sea, not like her one of her younger counterparts. No, she spent the bulk of her life on land. In the beginning, she remained with him because he saved her life. Now, however, she remained with him because her place was at his side.  
  
The wind ruffled his graying hair, and she saw the corners of his mouth turn up as she approached from the side. He said, "You never could sneak up on me, lass. What makes you think you can do it now?" Now that barest hint of a smile was blossoming into the real thing. He turned to face her, his dark eyes twinkling. The protective shell that guarded his heart for so long was finally cracking, and the rest of the crew could see the man she saw all along.  
  
He was a good captain. . .a good pirate. . .a good man. Never mind that he was a little strange. He was a good captain, took good care of them. Half of them knew the truth about him, and stayed with him anyhow. Despite the curse, despite his terrifying appearance when he was visible in the moonlight. The other half. . .well, they served under mad captains before, and they figured a daft captain was better than a mad one.  
  
They didn't know that until eight months earlier, he couldn't die. Which was why he took such foolish risks, throwing himself in front of his men. He couldn't die. . .but they could. And they loved him all the more for it, though some of them were a little spooked by his recovery from gunshots that should have been fatal. One thing she learned over the years. Sailors were among those most superstitious of men, and pirates were even more so.  
  
She replied now, shaking her dark blonde hair out of her eyes, "I've not been a lass for more years than I can count, William Turner, and I will thank you to remember that!" He threw back his head and laughed, and she smiled. It was good to hear him laugh. He was still haunted by the possibility of his son's death. But she fought him on that, tooth and nail. His son could be dead, aye. . .but then again, maybe not.  
  
She pointed out to him that in the eight months since the curse was lifted, they heard naught of Captain Barbossa and his mutinous band of cutthroats. On the other hand, they were hearing rumors that Jack Sparrow had the _Black Pearl_. If that was the case, she told him, the odds were good that Barbossa was dead, and his son was very much alive. He wasn't too sure of that. . .he was cursed for far too long to simply accept that his beloved child was alive.  
  
And he did love his son, with an intensity that sometimes took her breath away. She was forty-five years old, and she would never have children. She would never know what it felt like, to love someone like that. There was one, whom she would have wanted as her daughter. She no longer allowed herself to think the girl's name, for she was either dead or broken. And she could not bear to think of such a fate for her surrogate daughter.  
  
"Ahh, Narcissa. You will always be a lass to me, no matter what. In terms of years, you are but three years my junior, but I hope you never see or experience what I have," Bill finally told her. He leaned against the railing of the ship, staring out at the sea. The wind ruffled his hair once more, and Bill said softly, "You're a blessing to me, Narcissa. You always have been. From the moment we first pulled you aboard the '_Camille_.' It is important that you understand that, Cissie. It is important that you. . .never lose faith in what you mean to me."  
  
Touched, Narcissa Grayson reached out and squeezed his shoulder. His warm, solid, flesh and blood shoulder. She saw him both as man and as skeleton, and after the monsters she encountered in her lifetime, not even his skeletal appearance frightened her. Besides, he did save her life. She barely remembered being rescued from the cold sea, after the ship carrying her to England was sunk. But the crew told her the captain himself dove into the icy water and rescued her, pulling her aboard. And he never gave up, not all the time she was sick. Narcissa answered, "The way I see it, Bill, we saved each other. I know you were a pirate once. I know that some would call us pirates."  
  
Now Bill smiled impishly and replied, "Pirates? A pirate ship named '_Camille_,' I hardly think so! No, my sweet Cissie. . .I know not what we are. Only what we are not. And we are not pirates. I built the '_Camille_' to atone for what I did as a pirate. Not just the towns we pillaged, but the people I hurt. My captain, my rightful captain. My son. My Rosamunde. And, God forgive me, my Camille."  
  
Intrigued, for she never heard about the mysterious woman for whom the ship was named, Narcissa curbed her curiosity, and instead listened as Bill explained, "When I went back to England, I learned that my Rosamunde was dead. And Will. My little Will went to sea when he was just twelve years old. One of the old neighbors told me that Will went to sea. . .came to the Caribbean looking for me. This was a matter of months before I arrived after freeing myself."  
  
Still, Narcissa kept silent. Bill rewarded her patience, explaining, "And since it was only a few months, they still remembered the name of the ship. I did some investigating, and learned that it sank shortly before reaching Port Royal, maybe a day or so. Sank by bloody Barbossa and his crew. There was only one survivor. A twelve year old boy named 'Will Turner.' My son." Now Narcissa heard the thick rage in his voice, and trembled a little for that child.  
  
Bill rasped out, "Barbossa sensed the medallion, and they attacked that ship. I wanted to condemn them all, along with myself. We all deserved to pay. . .them for what they did to Jack Sparrow, and me for letting it happen. But I forgot one thing. My son. My son paid for my arrogance. And when I learned that. . ." He stopped, trembling. Tentatively, Narcissa put her hand on his shoulder, kneading the tight muscles.  
  
"That's why we went to the aid of that ship yesterday, isn't it?" Narcissa asked softly. Bill nodded, staring down into the depths of the ocean. The woman released a breath, feeling the tension in her companion. She would learn no more from him today. But that was fine. She learned more in the last ten minutes than she expected to. Narcissa gave his shoulder one last pat, then said, "I should check on Alvarado. He was injured in the rescue yesterday."  
  
Bill looked at her quickly, and Narcissa explained with a sigh, "Nothing serious, but the foolish boy decided his sword was more important than his life. He has a few broken ribs from lunging for it, and a cut along his right side. Indeed, the sword is beautiful, but it is hardly worth his life." Bill smiled, though this one didn't reach his eyes. It was a sad smile. . .a bitter smile. . .a knowing smile, and somehow, Narcissa was left out of that knowing.  
  
"We tend to treasure that which we think we might never have again. For me, the smell of the ocean, the taste of food. . .even touching my son again. . .is easily worth my life. There's a reason that sword means something to the boy, Cissie," Bill replied. Narcissa opened her mouth to speak, then realized she had nothing to say. She nodded, instead, and quietly left the deck to check on the young man in question.  
  
. . .  
  
After Narcissa left him, the man once called 'Bootstrap' Bill Turner looked once more out at the ocean. 'Bootstrap' he was from the time he was twenty-three until he freed himself from that damnable cannon ball and made his way back to land. After having a pair of cannonballs tied to his bootstraps, there was no way he would ever use that nickname again. Besides, it was an unwelcome reminder of Barbossa.  
  
He had no idea how long it took him to reach land, once he started walking. Wasn't even sure how long he was underwater before he made the choice that he would not simply wait passively for the end. The shock of still being alive. . .after a fashion. . . lasted for a time. The fury took a little longer to dissipate. . .fury with Barbossa, fury with himself. And eventually, he realized that he had another reason to be angry with himself. By sending that cursed coin to his son, he placed Will's life in terrible danger.  
  
When he came to that conclusion, self-loathing was quickly replaced by terror and a fierce determination to save his little boy. Oh, Will wasn't a little boy any longer. He was now a grown man of. . . Bill stopped and thought. How old was Will now? Almost one and twenty, wasn't he? Just a little older than his father was when Bill fell in love with Julia Monroe, and sired their daughter.  
  
Camille. With a groan, Bill almost buried his face in his hands. However, he settled for running his hands over his hair, instead, still staring into the ocean. Cammy. He didn't even know if his daughter was alive or not, much less his son. Julia never sent word. Bill half- suspected that his first lover caught something from one of her customers, and whatever illness killed her, also drove her insane.  
  
There were such diseases out there. Bill heard about them. It occurred to him that he was a carrier. . .maybe that was what killed Rosamunde? No. No, something else killed his wife. The neighbors to whom he spoke mentioned that they were afraid Will would catch what made his mother sick. That left out the clap or anything of that nature. That was small comfort indeed to the man who came home to an empty house, a dead wife, and a missing son.  
  
He wronged Rosamunde too many times. He wronged her by leaving so many times, leaving her to raise their son alone. And he wronged her by making assumptions about her willingness to raise Camille. When Will was born, the elder Turner could no longer hide the truth about his older child. He told Rosamunde everything. She was angry with him, yes. But not for siring a child out of wedlock. No, she was angry with him for thinking she was so petty, so shallow, as to think that she could ever hate a child of his. Twas not Camille's fault that she was born out of wedlock.  
  
Rosamunde would have loved Camille. She would have loved her smile, her laughter. Her warmth, her intelligence, her curiosity. Bill asked, cuddling his son close, how Rosamunde knew all that about Camille, about his little girl. The way Rosamunde talked about Cammy, Bill would have thought she actually met her. Rosamunde smiled at him, and said, "She's your daughter, William Turner. How could she be anything else?" For the second time in five years, William Turner, now William Turner Senior, fell in love with his wife.  
  
Aye. Rosamunde would have been a good mother to Camille. He was sorry she never got the chance. Even sorrier that he agreed to Julia's insanity. He and Rosamunde could have made it work. They would have found a way. They. . .agh, twas no use! Bill sighed. No sense in tormenting himself with what might have been. He could not change the past. That was one reason he built the '_Camille_' once he reached land.  
  
He had much to atone for. Jack. Will. Rosamunde. Camille. Even Julia, God rest her poor soul. And yet, in the end, when it came time to name his ship. . .he named it not after his lover, or his wife, or his son, or his captain. Cap'n Jack Sparrow, thank you very much. Bill smiled, thinking of that. He hoped Jack was alive. He hoped he reclaimed the _Pearl_. He hoped the younger man forgave him for his cowardice. . .for not trying harder to protect him.  
  
Yet. . .it was always Cammy's name to which he returned, when trying to name his new ship. Perhaps because she was truly the first person he betrayed, with his cowardly promise to her mother. Never mind that Julia threatened to keep his daughter from him permanently, if he didn't make her that evil promise. He was a pirate, dammit. . .he could have taken his daughter from Julia and raised her on the _Pearl_!  
  
That was what both Jack and Barbossa wanted. Something he learned just before Barbossa and the other mutineers threw him overboard, with those damnable balls attached to his bootstraps. Barbossa always held him and Jack in contempt for bowing to Julia's wishes. She was dying. Didn't know what was best for her or her daughter. They could have raised her to be a proper pirate lass.  
  
And if we did that. . . Bill stopped, his blood running cold in his veins, as he considered this for the first time. If Cammy was on the _Pearl _at the time of the mutiny, she would have either died herself, or been stranded with Jack. After all. . .once men became used to a woman's presence on a ship, the fear of bad luck would get swallowed up by other concerns. Something Bill saw with the three women on his own ship.  
  
If she hadn't remained with Julia, there was nothing saying that Cammy would have lived with Rosamunde. She could have remained on the Pearl until she was at least nine years old, after Will was born. Bill thought back almost eleven years. His daughter was nine-and-twenty, almost thirty. She would have been eighteen or nineteen when the mutiny occurred. A young woman herself. And a pirate lass would have a bloody hard time adjusting to life on land.  
  
She might not have been married. So yes. . .his daughter might have died. Or been cursed herself. Or stranded on that island with Jack Sparrow. Now there was an idea to give a father nightmares. Even if Jack always regarded Cammy as a little sister. Cammy was Bill's daughter, and Jack was a charming rogue. He didn't know how his daughter's life turned out after he abandoned her, but perhaps her mother was right, and she didn't belong on the _Pearl_.  
  
Still. . .he still felt as if he betrayed her. That betrayal seemed to start the first of many, and that was the driving force behind his desire to atone. Perhaps if he hadn't betrayed and abandoned his daughter, he would have been better able to help Jack at the time of the mutiny.  
  
So, he named his ship '_Camille_.' And once she was named, the figurehead was easy enough to design. A young woman with her hands cupped, as if cupping the face of her lover. Or her father, as Cammy cupped his face so many times. The face didn't matter. Just the hands. And he had no trouble in taking women on his ship. He was cursed for ten years. Sank to the bottom of Davy Jones' locker. Walked underwater for God only knew how long.  
  
After all of that, whatever bad luck came from having women aboard was minuscule. And now he had three. Narcissa, his greatest blessing. Catalina, the former slave whom he bought in Tortuga, then freed. And Juana, the female half of a set of twins, both of whom served on his ship. Bill smiled in spite of himself. They were a matched set. You didn't have one without the other, they told him when he fished them out of trouble almost nine years earlier.  
  
He never asked what kind of trouble. Juana, however, said that her brother killed someone who deserved to die. And there was such hate in her eyes when she said that, Bill had no desire to ask further. She was no more than one-and-twenty or two-and-twenty at the time. No young woman of that age should ever have such hatred in her eyes. Ever. He asked no questions, and they volunteered nothing.  
  
In return, he received two of the finest sailors he ever served with. The twins felt guilty about something. . .not the killing. . .but something. And they worked just as hard as he did to make sure the '_Camille_' was a success. Narcissa's revelation that the boy was injured during the rescue the previous didn't surprise him at all. He knew two things about that boy. . .he was exceedingly fond of that sword of his and he was ferociously protective of women. All Bill had to do, to get the boy involved, is mention that a woman might be harmed in some way. The former pirate wondered what happened to make Alvarado like that. He never wondered for long. There were too many other things to distract him, to worry about.  
  
. . .  
  
The Swann-Turner wedding and reception was finally winding down, and Alicia Webster could give her regards to the newlyweds and excuse herself. She wanted to return to her daughter. Because of her own 'mixed' blood, Alicia didn't feel comfortable with leaving Tamsyn for a long period of time with other people. She was half-afraid that someone would eventually recognize her as the daughter of Julia Monroe, Bootstrap Bill Turner's whore, and those people, in turn, shun her own daughter.  
  
It wasn't exactly rational, of course. But her former master was almost as cruel as the man he gave her to. It would be just like him to tell people that his little maid was the daughter of a whore and a pirate. All for the fun of watching Alicia squirm or even weep.  
  
She was not ashamed of her father. Or Jack. She just wanted to make sure he was safely away before James Norrington returned. She wasn't ashamed of her father at all. But she wanted to protect her little girl. It was bad enough that Tamsyn was far more grown up than any other eight year old Alicia ever encountered. There was no reason why she should suffer for something she didn't even do.  
  
At the same time, Alicia couldn't help wonder if she was doing the right thing by telling Jack about her suspicions regarding her father. If she was right, if William Turner the Elder was still alive. . . should she unmask herself? Did she tell him that she was his daughter, grown up, and using another name? She thought back to Jack's question. Why did she go by 'Alicia,' instead of 'Camille.' There were actually several reasons for that.  
  
First, she was 'Alicia' for almost sixteen years, while she was 'Camille' for fourteen. Secondly, 'Camille' was the name her mother gave her, in memory of Julia's best friend, a French whore who died of the clap. And Alicia still wasn't sure if she would ever forgive her mother for what she did, not just for selling her to that evil man, but for driving her father away. There was much that her mother didn't realize Alicia understood. Thirdly, her mistress gave her the name 'Alicia' as a way of protecting her against the master.  
  
She called herself 'Alicia Webster' for so long, that was how she thought of herself. She no longer thought of herself as 'Camille Turner.' And that brought her back to the original question. What if she was right? What if her father was alive? Alicia didn't have the answer to that question. She didn't know what she would do. If Jack had his way, she would tell her father, and Will, the truth.  
  
She wanted Will in her life, not just as the young blacksmith who created such fine swords, and made it possible for her to thank her step-son for everything he did for her and Tamsyn. She wanted Will in her life as her brother, the uncle to her daughter. That was actually why Alicia found her daughter's infatuation with Will worrisome. He was her uncle, after all. Yes, Tamsyn was eight years old, but. . .  
  
That was one fly in the ointment. Another was. . .Will was still struggling to regain his balance after the last revelation that turned his life upside down. Did she dare to rock his world with yet another revelation? Alicia pulled back from that. She would have been the first to say she was a coward. And she feared that her younger brother would hate her. After all. . .wouldn't he want their father all to himself? After all the years apart, and everything Will went through as the son of Bootstrap Bill, there was so much to be said between them.  
  
Alicia shook herself. She was getting ahead of herself, thinking about things that had not yet and may never happen. She promised Jack that she would stay out of his way, and let him do the investigating. Alicia would do just that. She had a responsibility to her daughter. She found Tamsyn happily playing in their kitchen, with old Mrs McCaffrey watching over her. The old woman was among the few neighbors with whom Alicia felt genuinely comfortable. She was a Papist, and Irish, and though nothing was said about Catholics practicing their faiths here in the colonies. . .  
  
There was always someone who didn't like a person simply because of what they were. However, Mrs McCaffrey was always kind to the mother and daughter. The old woman looked up as Alicia entered and smiled, saying, "I was growin' a'feared for ye, lass. How was th' weddin' and did the bride look lovely?" Tamsyn made a face, and Mrs McCaffrey waved a finger, adding, "And don't ye be makin' that face, little missy, 'else it might freeze like that!"  
  
Alicia turned away briefly, to hide her own smile. But from the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs McCaffrey wink at her. Tamsyn pouted, "But I don't like Elizabeth! Will should have waited for me! I'll be sixteen in eight years!" Alicia raised her eyebrows at that comment. Sixteen? Well, yes, girls often did wed at sixteen. Sometimes even younger. But her daughter was just a child, and there was plenty of time for that.  
  
"Aye, but Will Turner shouldn't have t' wait eight years for th' lass of his dreams. If ye truly loved him, Thomasina, ye would be happy for him. . .because he's happy," Mrs McCaffrey answered wisely. Well, that was a better response than anything Alicia had in mind. There were times when she thought she was a terrible mother, because she didn't have the answer to one of her daughter's questions.  
  
As if understanding what went through Alicia's mind, Mrs McCaffrey added, "And besides, lass, Will is almost one-and-twenty. Ye should look t' laddies yer own age." Tamsyn's horrified expression almost made Alicia laugh. Almost. Then her daughter screwed up her face in an obvious expression of disgust. The widow could almost hear what her daughter was thinking, because her mind worked in a similar manner when she was eight.  
  
"Enough of that, Tamsyn. . .Mrs McCaffrey, I thank you again for watching over my daughter. If there's ever anything you need, please, let me know," Alicia interposed before the little girl could treat them all to a blistering account of just why boys her own age were utterly despicable. The old woman smiled at her kindly and gently stroked Tamsyn's dark hair, then touched Alicia's cheek.  
  
"No need for ye to thank me, young lady. I miss me own gel, back in Ireland. She's just about yer age. . .bein' wi' ye and Thomasina takes some of the hurt away," Mrs McCaffrey answered. She smiled again, and now, Alicia saw the sadness in the old woman's green eyes. This was the first Alicia heard of Mrs McCaffrey's family in Ireland, and she wondered what else she didn't know about the old woman.  
  
How strange to live beside a woman for eight years, and really know so little about her. Mrs McCaffrey added, almost as if she could hear Alicia's thoughts, her voice very soft, "I'm glad to see, lass, that ye are startin' t' trust other people now. Yer husband hurt ye, t' be sure. But not all men are like that. . .and not all people think a pretty young widow killed her husband. Ye have good neighbors here, lass. When yer ready t' reach out a hand."  
  
Alicia glanced over at her daughter, who wasn't listening. A fact for which Alicia was very grateful. After a moment, the widow looked back at her neighbor, saying softly, "It isn't just that, Mrs McCaffrey. There are many things you do not know about me, about my family."  
  
That sadness only deepened, as the older woman replied, "I tell ye, lassie. I be sixty-eight years old. I buried four of me children, an' watched me husband hang as a traitor. I seen evil when I looked at the great Lord Protector." She spat the title out as if it tasted vile, then continued, "I see no evil when I look at ye. Whatever ye done, whatever yer ma or da did. . .I know. Tweren't evil."  
  
Again, she touched Alicia's cheek, adding, "An' maybe one day, ye kin trust me enough t' tell me why ye have such hurt in yer eyes. Until that time, lass. . .ye take care o' yerself. And that little girl o' yers." She gently patted Alicia's cheek, then hobbled out the front door. Alicia watched her go, troubled. She spent her entire life in the Caribbean, and of course, she heard of Oliver Cromwell, the Lord Protector. But this was the first time she heard him spoken of with such hatred. Deeply troubled, the widow decided to learn more about the Lord Protector. It would keep her mind occupied whilst Jack learned what he could of her father.  
  
. . .  
  
As Narcissa Grayson made her way below decks, she was greeted by a string of Spanish curses coming from the infirmary. She tried not to smile, reluctantly impressed by the range she was hearing. Oh, of course she heard Alvarado swear in the past. The boy had quite an impressive collection of profanities at his disposal, and could even embarrass Bill on occasion. However, his swearing wasn't usually this. . .imaginative.  
  
A second voice broke in, also in Spanish. Narcissa smiled as Juana chastised her brother for his language. They were quite the pair, the Alvarado twins. In some ways, they were your typical brother and sister. They argued quite frequently, always in Spanish. While the majority of the crew didn't understand a word either of them said (which made Narcissa think maybe they didn't want to know), the arguments between the twins were always amusing.  
  
By the same token, they were almost viciously protective of each other. Narcissa had no brothers or sisters growing up, so maybe that wasn't unusual for siblings. Then she remembered about whom she was speaking. There was absolutely nothing usual about the Alvarado twins. She gently rapped on the door, and this time, a female voice called in English, "Come in, Narcissa!" The older woman smiled and opened the door.  
  
She didn't ask how Juana knew she was there. Juana and Narcissa were the only people on board who ever bothered to knock. Except for Bill, and he wouldn't have rapped on the door. . .he would have half-knocked it down. Juana said, "If you see _el capitan_, you may tell him that my brother is being foolish, but he will live." Alvarado responded with another round of invectives, and Juana slapped back of his head this time, adding firmly, "Bastante!"  
  
The first time Narcissa heard that word, she was offended. . .until she learned that it didn't refer to a person's legitimacy. That explanation came from Bill, rather than the twins. While the twins were born on the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak, neither spoke of that. They didn't speak of their mother and they certainly didn't speak of their father. However, Juana did explain to Narcissa that 'bastante' meant 'enough.'  
  
"I just left the captain, Juana, but if I see him again, I'll tell him," Narcissa replied. She looked at the twins. They really were attractive children. . .beautiful even. Juana was the younger twin, by fifteen minutes. She was tall for a woman, coming about to her brother's chin. Her dark brown hair was long, but kept back from her triangular, cat-like face with a leather band. Narcissa heard Bill say in the past that Juana was like the sea. . .she could be cold and cruel, or tender and gentle.  
  
Narcissa realized, after hearing Bill's statement, that was why so many sailors referred to the sea as female. That description fit a number of women whom Narcissa knew, including herself. However, Juana had the additional complication of being a female pirate. Narcissa knew little about her young friend's early life, but she could make guesses. Psychology was not known in the seventeenth century.  
  
But Narcissa needed no psychology to understand Juana. She might not understand all of her moods and her facial expressions, but she could almost always see things from Juana's point of view. Juana's first priority was, and ever would be, taking care of her brother. She told Bill that when he first brought her and her twin aboard. Bill explained that was fine. . .there was nothing more important than family.  
  
Her brother. Narcissa turned her attention to the older Alvarado twin. No one knew his real name. Juana referred to him as '_mi hermano'_ (my brother) or '_Santiago_.' The latter was often used sarcastically, and always when Juana was trying to make a point. While Juana was easily described as 'lovely,' her brother was the beautiful one. He was quite capable of taking a woman's breath away.  
  
And based on the hungry glances Narcissa noticed during their last visit to Tortuga, there were men who found him quite attractive as well. He stood perhaps four or five inches taller than his twin sister, even barefoot. While Juana's hair was dark brown, Alvarado's hair was midnight black. They both had dark eyes. . .deep, warm brown. Juana's hair was worn to her waist when it was loose, while her twin's hair reached to just above his shoulders. He wore a somewhat groomed beard and mustache, but no one ever saw him shaving, so it was anyone's guess how he managed to stay well groomed. Personally, Narcissa thought he simply took a few moments and did what was necessary while looking into a gold plate. It was what she would have done.  
  
He was made even more attractive by the fact that he bathed when he had the chance. One of the hardest things Narcissa found when she was brought aboard the '_Camille_' was the smell. Sailors, or pirates, often went weeks or even months without a decent bath. Alvarado kept as clean as he could. . .while it resulted in teasing from other members of the crew, no one could argue that he received far more attention in Tortuga than his less-clean shipmates.  
  
Nor could Narcissa argue that his latest wound would leave a scar that would make him all the more charming, even to the so-called 'civilized' ladies. Narcissa smiled, remembering the first time she and Bill made love, after the curse was broken. She remembered how much pleasure she derived out of kissing each of her new lover's scars, and how much pleasure his gasps and moans gave her.  
  
That was why she couldn't resist teasing the young man now, "Well, look at it this way. This will give the ladies in Tortuga one more scar to kiss and make better." Unexpectedly, Alvarado flushed, the red muted a little by his lightly tanned skin. Juana, on the other hand, roared with laughter. Alvarado muttered something under his breath that Narcissa couldn't hear, and probably didn't want to hear.  
  
Especially not when the still-laughing Juana smacked him in the back of his head. Again. Her twin growled under his breath and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back against his chest, amid her giggling. Bad move. He groaned as the movement aggravated his broken ribs, and released his sister immediately. Juana was on her knees in front of him immediately, the laughter in her eyes giving way immediately to concern.  
  
Narcissa joined her, putting a gentle hand on the warm flesh. A little too warm for Narcissa's liking, and she said, "Enough. . .you need to rest, lad, you're developing a fever." Juana looked at her quickly, and Narcissa added, "I doubt it's anything serious, but he should still rest. We don't want a repeat of the last time, and Juana, don't smack your brother again. You may knock the remaining sense he has out of his head."  
  
Now she was on the receiving end of his glare, but Narcissa glared back. She did not survive an abusive and unfaithful husband, nearly dying at sea, and years of loving a walking dead man, to be cowed by a member of this crew. Alvarado, surprisingly, dropped his eyes first. Juana said something in Spanish, too low for Narcissa to understand it, and her brother answered in an equally low voice.  
  
After a moment, Juana said, "I will stay with my stubborn brother, 'Cissa. You must rest as well." Narcissa smiled, though she was certain it would never reach her eyes. Rest. How could she rest, when there was so much to do? Juana added, "Besides, I know I cannot rest. I am afraid that some of the Naval crew saw the name of our ship during the fight yesterday. If that is the case. . ."  
  
She let her words trail off, but then, it wasn't necessary to say anything further. Narcissa knew, just as everyone did, that part of their success hinged on anonymity. No one could know about the _Camille_, and no one could know that Bootstrap Bill Turner was still alive. Bill wasn't ready to trust the authorities with his return from the dead. He was a pirate, and never mind the last ten years of a man seeking atonement. . .he was a pirate. If he was caught, he would be hung. That was the way things were.  
  
"If that is the case," Narcissa replied after a moment, "We will find a way to deal with it. Just as we always have. But you are quite correct. I should rest. Call me if you need anything."  
  
Juana bobbed her head in acknowledgment of this request, and Narcissa slipped quietly from the room. She sighed as she closed the door behind her. Not for the first time, she wondered just how Alvarado broke his ribs while lunging for his sword. Something didn't seem quite right with the story, but Narcissa participated in few fights. More often, she was escorted below decks, where she would wait until people were brought to her after the fight for healing. Narcissa half-resented it, but she understood it.  
  
In the first place, she had no business being above decks during a battle. She could barely defend herself. . .why put someone else's life at risk when she could be down below, taking care of the injured? Something she could do. Secondly, it was Bill's way of protecting her. She was the captain's lady. It made her feel special. How long was it since she was precious to anyone?  
  
Too long. Entirely too long. And that made Narcissa Grayson feel even more tired. She was in her forties. . .her life was more than half- over. That was, of course, assuming that the '_Camille_' wasn't caught, and she wasn't hung as a pirate. Her life was more than half over, and she was only now learning what it meant to be loved and cherished and protected. But that was a woman's lot in life. . .unless she had the courage to make her own lot in life. For that reason, and others, Narcissa envied Juana.  
  
. . .  
  
When she stopped and thought about it, Juana Alvarado y Ruiz felt a little dizzy. She was born and raised in the Caribbean, the daughter of a Spanish maid and an Englishman for whom Juana and her brother bore little love. They spent the first twenty years of their lives trying to make a better life for themselves and their mother. . . only to watch their mother die of consumption. It was her dying wish that they reconcile with their father.  
  
They might have done just that, if they didn't realize very quickly that their father was as uninterested in them now as he was for their first twenty years of life. Instead, the twins ran off to sea after one confrontation too many between the father and son. And here they remained for the last ten years. Here on the ocean, here where they had true freedom. At least until her idioto of a brother tried to sacrifice himself for a stupid, bloody sword!  
  
With an irritated huff, Juana smacked her brother in the back of his head yet again. She was rewarded with an annoyed glare. Not that it had much effect on her. Juana grew up with her brother, she knew him better than anyone else in the world did. His glares didn't frighten her. The only thing about her brother that frightened her was this selfless streak of his. At least they weren't really pirates. Her brother wasn't ruthless enough to survive as a pirate.  
  
She corrected herself immediately. He was ruthless enough, when it came to protecting his family, the people he loved most in the world. Their mother, her. . .their father's young wife. Juana never met her step-mother. . .she knew only that her sire married a young girl her own age. It would have been the easy thing, to blame that young woman for the ugly final confrontation between her twin and their father.  
  
But Juana knew her father almost as well as she knew her brother. She knew what kind of a man her father was, and she knew what kind of a man her brother was. More than that, she knew that her brother's hatred of their father grew exponentially over a period of several years. Whatever happened with their father's young wife, it was merely a catalyst. She was a pawn, nothing more. Not the villainess. . .just another victim, like Juana's mother.  
  
Juana, however, was no victim. She wasn't as soft-hearted as her brother, and she could be twice as ruthless. . .especially when it came to defending her family, her shipmates, and her captain. Bill Turner could have turned the twins over to the authorities years earlier. He could have sacrificed them to save his own skin. But he didn't. In some ways, he was more of a father to the twins than their own father. . .not that this would have taken much effort.  
  
And she never truly forgave her mother for allowing her father to use her like that. In her mind, Juana knew that her mother had few options open to her. Even if this was the enlightened seventeenth century, respectable women had very few choices. Juana wanted more for herself, and she was willing to break some rules to do it. She grew up seeing the choices her brother had to him, and that was what she wanted for herself.  
  
It's a curious thing, to both love someone and despise them at the same time. But this was the reality of Juana's relationship with her mother. She loved her, of course. She was her mother, after all. But Juana also despised her for her weakness. . .at least, what Juana saw as her weakness. She allowed herself to be used by a man, and bore two children out of wedlock for that. If she was but a little stronger, she could have. . .done something.  
  
It was possible that Narcissa was like her mother at one time, but Juana didn't believe that. Narcissa was too strong. She stood up to her husband, and he almost killed her for it. He would have killed her, but for Captain Bill. There were some respectable women whom Juana respected, but not many. Narcissa was one of those select few. . .she took care of the people on the ship, and didn't think the less of them.  
  
She didn't give up, even when a rule blocked her path. Narcissa found ways around the rules. As for Catalina. . .Catalina didn't pay attention to any rules. The only rules that mattered to her were the rules set down by Captain Bill. There might have been a time when Catalina was in love with Captain Bill, but she came to realize that if the captain was in love with any woman on this ship, it was Narcissa.  
  
She might have resented the older woman for her place in Captain Bill's heart, at least in the beginning, but Catalina came to accept the way of things. Or if she didn't, she kept it to herself, and focused her attention on her own task aboard the _Camille_.  
  
Catalina was a navigator, and a bloody good one, Captain Bill was heard to say on more than one occasion. She was a true daughter of the sea, born and raised on a pirate ship. How that came to be was a story Juana never heard. Although, Catalina did tell her younger companion one reason women on a ship were viewed as bad luck. _The sea is a woman_, she told Juana, _and she is a jealous mistress_.  
  
Juana could actually fathom that, though she thought it was somewhat peculiar. On the other hand, most of the things aboard the '_Camille_' could be considered peculiar, including herself and her twin. Especially since her dear, idiotic twin tried to sacrifice his own life for that damn sword! Diego said now, "You know, hermanita, that Alicia gave me that sword." Yes, she did know that. It was a fine sword, even Juana could see that.  
  
But it was just a sword, hardly worth losing his life for! Then again, Juana never understood the somewhat queer relationship between her twin brother and their step-mother. Diego often visited Alicia while they were in port, and her small daughter Thomasina. Tamsyn. That gave Juana pause. She had a little sister. An eight year old sister, who, like Juana was being raised by a lone woman.  
  
Perhaps that was the reason Diego couldn't stay away from Alicia? Because she reminded him too much of their mother, raising them alone after their father's abandonment? That was entirely possible. And yet, based on what little Diego told her about their father's young wife, she was actually much stronger than their mother. He spoke often of how well she hid her sadness, and how few people realized just how depraved their father was. Alicia conducted herself with a quiet dignity and pride.  
  
"Si, mi hermano, I know Alicia gave you that sword, but I am sure she would not wish you to throw your life away because of it! You say little about her, but from what you have said, it seems she is entirely too sensible for such a thing," Juana replied. Her brother shook his head, barely biting back a groan as he moved wrong. The sister couldn't help herself. She moved toward Diego, to make sure he was all right.  
  
"You do not understand, hermanita. She had it made for me. . . but I am only keeping it in trust until the right time. She told me the name of the man who made it," Diego explained. Juana frowned. That was a strange thing to say. Did their father's wife give him this sword to keep in trust for someone else? Why would she do that? Diego saw her expression and explained, "No, Juanita. I made the choice to give it to someone else when Alicia told me the name of the craftsman."  
  
Well now, this did sound mysterious! Diego continued, a small smile hovering on his lips, "A young man in Port Royal made it. . .the betrothed of the governor's daughter. A young man by the name of 'William Turner.' A blacksmith, and a pirate." However, this last was not necessary. Juana immediately recognized the name. Will Turner. How could she not recognize the name? It was one she heard often over the last several years, as part of _el capitan's_ inner circle. She stared at her brother in shock, and Diego nodded, adding in a low voice, "Si. Our captain's son is in Port Royal."  
  
Juana understood the significance of this observation. She overheard Narcissa and Catalina discussing their captain's fears that his son was dead at the hands of Hector Barbossa. Juana asked softly, "Then why have you not told _el capitan_, mi hermano? He fears that his son is dead, you should tell him the truth!" Diego glared at her, and this time, Juana did back down. He had a good reason not to tell Captain Bill. . .at least, he better have a good reason!  
  
"I have not yet told him, hermanita, because I wish to wait until we return to Port Royal. At that time, I will give him the sword as a gift," Diego replied. He paused, then added, "That will also give me time to find Alicia. I must see about her and Tamsyn. Juana. . .come with me. I want you to meet Alicia." Juana looked away. She still didn't know why her brother had not yet told _el capitan_ the truth. He should tell him. . .  
  
Because you just never knew if tomorrow would come.  
  
. . .  
  
"You mean to tell me that the '_Camille_' interfered? Again?"  
  
He had just enough time to duck out of the way as a goblet filled to the brim with wine sailed past his head and connected with the wall. The wine splashed over the wood, and he shuddered. It rather looked like blood, rather than wine. He snuck a look back at the captain, who was staring at him with coldly furious green eyes. The man swallowed hard, saying softly, "I'm afraid so, Captain. Our men who returned report seeing the figurehead."  
  
A second oath of fury was uttered and the man cringed, but the captain only spun away. In a way, the first mate felt sorry for Bootstrap Bill Turner. He had a habit of interfering with their plans. Something that enraged his captain to no end. On the other hand, he felt more sorry for the crew of this ship. Every time Bootstrap interfered with a raid against a ship of the Royal Navy, it was the crew who paid.  
  
After a moment, the captain turned back, and in a quietly controlled voice, "How many men did we lose?" The man cringed all over again. This would not be pleasant. The captain was hardly protective of the crew. . .not with the daily floggings that took place for everything from unfavorable winds to an untidy deck. However, it would seem only the captain had the right to kill the crew. . .none others were allowed that privilege.  
  
The man replied quietly, "Twelve men. The '_Camille_' has three women among its crew, and they are just as dangerous as the men. The blonde woman isn't as effective as the Spanish bitch or the darky, but the blonde woman is protected by the captain, and by a young man."  
  
"A blonde woman, is it? Well, well, Bootstrap's tastes have certainly changed over the years," came the mocking reply. The captain turned away, muttering about Bootstrap Bill. The man wondered what was between them. The captain had a fit any time the '_Camille_' was mentioned. . .could not bear to hear the name. The next words were spoken so softly, the man barely heard it, "The blonde woman may be useful to us. What is the heading?"  
  
"The '_Camille_' is heading back to Port Royal. Captain. . .I been hearing rumors. Bootstrap has a son, Will. . .he sailed with Jack Sparrow last year, when Barbossa sacked Port Royal. Maybe Bootstrap has found out that his son is in Port Royal, and he's heading back there to see the boy," the man said. He half-expected the captain to throw something else at him. Maybe a knife this time.  
  
But it didn't happen. Instead, the captain said thoughtfully, "Is that right? Bootstrap has a son, does he? And this son sailed with Jack Sparrow. Well, well, well. . . how fortuitous. If Bootstrap is heading to Port Royal, then by all means, we should follow. When we get there, I want to know everything you can about Will Turner. More to the point, I want you to find a weakness we can exploit. If we know that Will Turner is Bootstrap's son, then so does Jack Sparrow."  
  
The man already knew where his captain was going with this, and guessed, "We can use the boy to lure Sparrow and Bootstrap into a trap." The captain smiled unexpectedly, and the man continued, "There is one other thing. The crew of the _Diablo_." The smile quickly gave way to a frown. The man added hastily, "I'm just concerned, Captain. The captain of the _Diablo_ is not known for his intelligence. He was a second rate version of Barbossa."  
  
"So he was. . .continue," the captain replied impatiently. Right. How did he explain this? One of the survivors told him they executed the captain's plan, just as they talked about. And the plan was working, right up until the '_Camille_' arrived. As the man tried to find a way to explain what he was thinking, however, the captain observed, "That's what concerns you, though. You think they might realize Obregon was nothing more than a puppet."  
  
"Aye, captain. He ain't nearly as smart as you are," the man replied, and almost choked on his words. It was bad enough that his captain was a woman. But a smart woman? A smart and utterly ruthless woman, who had no compulsion whatsoever about gutting an enemy in front of his own crew, just as she did to Obregon right before her men took over the _Diablo_? That just didn't seem natural to him.  
  
"That is a possibility. However, as you said, I'm far more intelligent than he was. Before they figure out that Obregon was naught but a figurehead," and the captain laughed at her own joke, "we'll have the Turner boy. What do you think, Briggs? Should I kill the boy and send him back to his father, piece at a time. . .or should I kill the whelp in front of him?" Briggs shuddered a little.  
  
His captain wasn't just smart and utterly ruthless. . .she was also crazy as the dickens. Briggs didn't want to ask the next question. He knew what happened to people who questioned the captain. He saw it with his own eyes. It was one way she protected herself from a mutiny.  
  
The other way was. . .well, sailors were a superstitious lot, and she seemed capable of controlling the weather, the sea itself. Even so, he had to know. If he would die in the next few weeks, he wanted to at least know the reason why he would die. And so, Briggs asked hesitantly, "Begging your pardon, Captain, but why do you hate Turner and Sparrow so?" The captain looked at him, a haunted expression appearing in her eyes.  
  
"They killed my sister, Briggs. The only person I ever loved in my life, and they killed her. They killed her, and they betrayed her. I swore at her graveside that they would pay for it. I've waited twenty-five years, and now I finally have the chance I've dreamed of for so long," Captain Moran answered quietly. She looked away, and when she looked back, there were tears in her green eyes. Briggs swallowed hard.  
  
Her sister. He had a sister once, someone he loved so much it hurt. He hadn't seen her in ten years, not since he was put on a prison ship. But he had only to imagine receiving word that his sister was dead. He would kill whoever was responsible. . .by God, he would slit their very throats! And suddenly, the captain didn't seem so crazy. Briggs cleared his throat and answered softly, "You had only to say so, Captain."  
  
Again, he knew that she could probably kill him for saying so, and the unspoken words. She didn't have to kill those sailors. The captain smiled without any real humor, replying, "I know that. But I had to make the crew fear me, Briggs. I'm a woman. . .a member of the weaker sex. I had to make them fear me, and. . .and I thought I could ease some of the pain. I was wrong. The only thing that will take away this godawful emptiness in my soul is watching Turner and Sparrow suffer as I have."  
  
She turned away, then looked back at Briggs, adding, "I've changed my mind. Leave the woman alone. Taking the whelp will cause far more pain to Bootstrap than taking his woman. After all, a woman is easily replaceable. . .not so a son." There was a bitter laughter in her voice, and again, Briggs winced. He wasn't sure he liked seeing this vulnerable side to his captain. This frightened him more than her rages. Perhaps that was what he said next, though he had no way of knowing how she would react.  
  
"You know, Captain. . .there is a rumor floatin' around. I've heard it several times over the last ten years, ever since Barbossa took the _Black Pearl_. Bootstrap has another child, a daughter. What about her? Could we use her to make him pay for whatever he did to your sister?" Briggs asked. A half-second after that, he couldn't even swallow, for the knife was at his throat, and there was a new madness in Captain Moran's green eyes. Alllll right. . .maybe her moment of weakness a moment earlier wasn't as frightening as one of her rages.  
  
But this was different. There was a light in her eyes, something Briggs never saw before. A light he didn't recognize, and would not recognize for some time. She hissed, "Never speak so again! The daughter is not to be touched! It is bad enough that Bootstrap named his damnable ship after his daughter! That is enough of a betrayal! The daughter is not to be harmed, not even to harm Bootstrap!" Briggs hoped she could see his surrender in his eyes, and she did, taking the knife from his throat.  
  
"He named the ship after his daughter?" he asked, needing clarification. She nodded. Briggs decided to take things one step further, adding, "And the daughter. . .she is your sister's child?" Again, his captain nodded, returning the dagger to the boot from whence it came. Well. That explained a great deal indeed. And it certainly explained why Captain Moran flew into a rage every time the '_Camille_' was mentioned.  
  
"Yes. He did. And I will see that damnable ship burned or sent to the bottom of the sea for that perfidy. The only thing left after I finish with Bootstrap Bill Turner will be my sister's child," his captain answered quietly. She looked at him, adding, "Go now. I have plans to make." Briggs nodded to her, then left the cabin. However, as he did, something new occurred to him. What if Bootstrap's daughter involved herself? If she knew that Will Turner was her brother, would she stand by and let them take him?  
  
Or would she fight at his side? Having a female captain forced Briggs to realize that while they were considered the weaker sex, women were made of pure steel. Somehow, he had the uneasy sense that Camille Turner would not let her younger brother go without a fight. And then what would the captain do? It was hard enough for Briggs to consider harming a child of his sister's. What would the captain do? 


End file.
